I Was Alone With The Moon
by AMKelley
Summary: In which Pete gets a hold of his dad's alcohol, Beaver learns than short people can't hold their liquor, Henry needs comforting, and Jonesy has an epiphany.


Jonesy always enjoyed looking up at the stars. He was laying down on the gravel and staring into the millions of stars that hung in the sky, admiring the simple beauty of night. And if it wasn't for Beaver going on about whatever and Pete nudging him in the side with his foot, this moment would be perfect. As for Henry... He was quiet most for the most part.

Beaver was loud and getting feisty with Pete, but Henry sat alone with his knees pulled tightly to his chest so he could rest his chin on them. It seemed as though alcohol had the opposite effect on Henry that it had on Beaver or Pete. Jonesy often wondered why that was. Jonesy was loopy, of course, but he was too caught up in the stars to join the two rowdy ones.

Pete had stole a bottle of Jack Daniel's from his father earlier in the night and all of them had told their mother's that they were staying at Henry's house because his parents were gone for the weekend. But of course teenage boys never did what they said they'd do and instead they could be found inebriated at Tracker Brothers, in the middle of the night.

Beaver made a strangled grunt when he tripped over Pete's foot, sending him face first into gravel which in turn knocked his glasses off. He was completely blind and the fact that it was pitch dark outside didn't help in finding them. Beaver scrambled for them frantically until Pete bent down to get them for him and handed the glasses to Beaver with an amused smirk.

"You should watch where you're going, Beav," Pete remarked with a hint of mockery.

"Fuck you, cock jockey! You did that on purpose!" Beaver exclaimed angrily as he wiped the dirt off of his arms and legs.

"How can you even tell the difference? It's dark out here," replied Pete.

"I don't know why we had to come out here to drink," Beaver mumbled with a tiny huff.

Pete walked, or staggered rather, over to the shorter boy and handed the bottle of Jack to him as a peace offering. Grudgingly, Beaver grasped it by the neck and yanked it towards him, taking a big pull from it. The bitter liquid burned a path down his throat and he coughed once in slight disgust. Pete took it back and took a swig as well, showing no signs of distaste as he did.

No one could hold liquor like Pete could.

"What's wrong with Tracker Brothers?" Pete questioned.

"It smells like sweaty ballsacks out here."

"I guess you'd know all about ballsacks, huh Beav?" Pete jeered with a snicker.

The remark had Jonesy rolling, literally rolling, in the gravel and made him cackle with hilarity. It could be that it was funny or it could be that the alcohol was just setting in. Henry wasn't laughing so it must've been the latter, besides it wasn't the first time Pete had made a snide remark like that and it wouldn't be the last.

Beaver lunged at Pete and tried to swing at him but Pete had a hand on Beaver's forehead, keeping him back with little effort. Pete began laughing at Beaver's drunken half hearted attempts at a solid punch and pushed Beaver away by the forehead. Pete turned away as Beaver collected himself and before the taller boy knew it Beaver was jumping on his back, riding him like a horse until they tumbled into the gravel together.

"Take it back, fuckface!" Beaver yelled in his pitchy voice as he pinned Pete to the ground and started to yank on the front of his shirt violently.

"Not until you ask nicely, ass demon," Pete bit out as he grappled with the rowdy boy on top of him.

Jonesy rolled his eyes and looked over to where Henry was sitting but Henry was no where to be found. The redhead got up from the ground and looked around at his surroundings to see if Henry was close by but he wasn't. Jonesy hoped he hadn't gone home without him and the others. He spied the half empty bottle of Jack that was left neglected on the unforgiving ground and picked it up off it's side.

Some of it had spilt out when Pete was tackled but there was still a fair amount left. Jonesy wandered off to look for Henry, taking a sip here and there as he searched around the side of Tracker Brothers. There was a rustle of leaves from where the wind brushed against them and Jonesy pulled his jacket around him slightly. It was too cold out tonight.

Jonesy heard the distinct sound of rocks being kicked and he followed it, investigating the disturbance like he was in an episode of Scooby-Doo. Despite being fifteen, Jonesy was still a little afraid of the dark and even more afraid of being alone, cold, drunk, vulnerable, and possibly on the road to getting lost in the woods.

His heart quickened but his feet couldn't stop their trek further into the woods. Jonesy took another gulp of alcohol, hoping it would make him more brave but it only made him stumble more. Jonesy eventually came across a giant log on the ground and, to his relief, Henry was perched upon it, sitting in silence.

"There you are," Jonesy slurred slightly as his head lolled back and forth, walking over to sit next to Henry. "Thought I lost you, H."

Henry gazed over at Jonesy, blushing at his friend's concern and feeling terrible for just running off without so much as a word. The blonde boy sighed heavily, something visibly weighing on his conscience. It didn't even make it past Jonesy in his drunken state. Anything involving a friend in distress never got past him, sober or not.

"Are you alright, H?" Jonesy inquired, craning his head to look into Henry's eyes.

Henry shrugged a shoulder, brushing off the question shyly. Jonesy slid over on the log and threw an arm around Henry's shoulders, handing him the rest of the bottle to finish it off. Surprisingly, Henry took it without protest and chugged the rest down in one big gulp, making Jonesy cringe just looking at it. Henry looked unphased. Something was definately wrong with him.

He wanted to ask Henry if he was alright again but he decided against it, looking up to the moon that was obscured by trees instead. Jonesy breathed in a cold, frigid breath and exhaled slowly, relishing the feeling it left in his lungs. His arm tightened around Henry's shoulders and pulled him closer when Jonesy felt him start to shiver, letting Henry indulge in his body heat.

Henry settled into Jonesy's side and it melted his heart at how affectionate Jonesy could be when they were alone together with the moon as their only witness. The bottle slipped out of Henry's fingers and it fell to the ground with a clank,discarded and forgotten. Henry sighed again and just stared straight.

"Do you ever wish that you could just go to bed and fall asleep forever?" Henry asked after a beat, being completely serious. The melancholy weighed heavy in his tone and his face was outlined in a frown as he waited for a reply.

"Sometimes, I guess," Jonesy said, trying to level with Henry's state of mind but the booze was clouding his better judgment. "Like when I'm having a bad day or get in a fight with my parents."

"Yeah, but don't you ever feel like giving up entirely? Just calling it quits?" Henry asked skeptically.

"Henry, I don't know wh-" Jonesy started to say, trying to form his words coherently but getting cut off by Henry.

"Because I do," Henry admitted, slumping his shoulders. "Almost everyday. And sometimes it's so unbearable that I just want to end it all."

"Why?" Jonesy asked dumbly, suddenly wishing he hadn't asked because he felt like it was an insult to his possibly suicidal friend. "I mean, you have so much to live for? Why throw all that away?"

"What have I got that's so important to live for?" Henry asked frustrated, hating himself even more and getting angry at the possibility that he had a good reason to keep pressing on.

"Well, there's..." Jonesy trailed off, feeling put on the spot which in turn made his mind go blank.

"See?" Henry mocked. "Nothing."

"Your friends!" Jonesy gushed. It was the first thing that came to mind and he was sure Henry could agree with it.

"Yeah, but no one loves me," Henry mumbled pessimistically.

"We all care about you, Henry. We're all like brothers."

"I don't want a brother. I want someone to kiss and hold me," Henry bit out. "I want a boyfriend... But I have none of those things, so what's the point?"

"I'd be crushed without you, H."

"You'd be crushed without me?" The blonde asked curiously, interested in Jonesy's statement. He looked over at Jonesy hopefully, trying to focus on his face.

"I meant 'we'. We'd be crushed without you," Jonesy falsely corrected, blushing at the confession that had slipped off his tongue without thinking.

"Oh," was all Henry said in response.

There was an awkward silence that washed over both boys and they both looked straight ahead, not wanting to continue that conversation. Jonesy retracted his arm from Henry's shoulders and stuffed them into his jacket's pockets to warm them up. Henry fidgeted with his thumbs and looked off to the side in defeat.

There was a snap of a twig off in the distance and it made Jonesy jump, absentmindedly grabbing onto Henry's arm to make him feel safe. Jonesy looked up into Henry's face and jerked away after an excruciating long three seconds. They both cleared their throats and went back to minding their own business.

"It was probably just a deer or something," mumbled Henry.

"Hey, H?" Jonesy asked.

"Yeah, Jonesy?"

"I could... Well..."

"Yes?" Henry asked, looking back at Jonesy expectantly as if silently hoping he'd say something he's wanted to hear ever since he found out he was in love with the redhead.

"If you want, I," Jonesy stammered, "I could be your boyfr.. Boyfriend."

It was easy to say it in his mind but beyond difficult to say it out loud and to his bestfriend, Henry, who he had previously thought was straight. But it dawned on Jonesy that he had always known Henry liked boys, had always like Jonesy. He knew this because Jonesy liked Henry too but it always felt like a brotherly bond, not an intimate one.

"You're just saying that," Henry brushed off after a moment to consider Jonesy's words.

Jonesy exhaled loudly, getting a little frustrated by Henry's inclination to willfully stubborn and not believe one word he said. So Jonesy did the next best thing he could think of. He leaned forward and pecked Henry on the lips quickly as if testing himself and seeing what Henry would do. Henry stared wide eyed at Jonesy and blushed profusely.

Henry didn't say anything or return the kiss so Jonesy did it again and again, trying to get a reaction from Henry until the blonde boy finally bought into Jonesy's supposed bluff. Henry pressed his lips to Jonesy's to give him an official kiss. It was awkward, stiff, and lasted too long. It was an absolute train wreck but neither boy would've had it any other way.

"Come on. Let's go see if Beaver killed Pete yet," Jonesy grinned as he pulled away from Henry.

It was safe to say that Jonesy had sobered up a little and he'd be lying if he said he didn't blush when Henry reached out to hold his hand. They trudged through the woods and Jonesy was thankful that Henry remembered the way because he had stumbled in here so blindly and didn't have a clue. When they reached the front of Tracker Brothers they stopped dead in their tracks and began to laugh hysterically.

Beaver still had Pete pined to the ground but instead of hitting and yelling they were going at it, devouring eachother's mouths like they were a couple. Henry and Jonesy were in stitches and in the morning Pete and Beaver would get some serious razing from the other two. But for now they'd just stand there and laugh their asses off.

Jonesy always knew it'd be this way.


End file.
